


Tale of Two Masters

by ArthurtheGatekeeper



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Angst and Humor, Angst with a Happy Ending, Attempted Murder, Hopeful Ending, M/M, Non-Explicit Sex, Suicidal Thoughts, Torture, cause you can't solve everything with a kiss, drowning and stabbing, it goes torture- comedy - sad - bad time - hopeful ending, like strangulation, loosely based on the Merlin episode with the same name, mentions of murderous sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-20
Updated: 2020-10-20
Packaged: 2021-03-09 02:41:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,734
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27126670
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArthurtheGatekeeper/pseuds/ArthurtheGatekeeper
Summary: Jaskier is held hostage and cursed to kill one Geralt of Rivia. He ends up at the keep. He tries very hard to do a murder.Fortunately for everyone involved he's a terrible assassin.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion, Jaskier | Dandelion & Lambert
Comments: 52
Kudos: 535





	Tale of Two Masters

It started out like this.

“I will have you know that kidnapping me is a very bad idea because I have very very powerful friends who will definitely worry about me and will exact revenge should anything foul happen to me.” He spat at the mage when they finally removed the covering from his head. His arms ached in the shackles above his head and his teeth chattered out of his head in fear. But he’d never let fear stop him from talking shit.

“You’re powerful friends are exactly why you’re here bard.” She told him. A sharp nail tracing his face. “I hope they come. It will make this so much easier.”

“You’re Nilfgaardian.” Which meant this wasn’t an angry cuckhold situation. “Why-“ And it occurred to him why. “Geralt.”

She smiled in a way that was not at all pleasant.

It started like this.

With pain and questions and screaming.

With memories pulled from his mind and torn apart like wet paper.

With starvation and filth and hunger.

It started like this.

“It’s been _months_. How are you this useless? Didn’t know anything useful and no one even tried to come for you.” She moved his sunken face left and right with a finger.

“No one looks for a traveling bard.” He croaked at her. “I told you no one would come.”

“Because no one cares. I don’t blame them. You’re not worth it.”

Sounded right. At least he’d been unhelpful to the very end.

“Useless.” He agreed with a tiny smile.

At least it would be over soon.

“Not quite.” She lifted his face to look at her. “There’s still one more thing you can do.”

It started out like this.

Shivering. Starving. In a pine forest on a mountain side.

At least the sun was there. He’d hoped to enjoy it once more.

The dirt path was hard and painful under his unclothed feet and eventually he collapsed onto it.

Distantly someone called his name.

There was no one who cared enough to call his name. Not in this world or the next.

So, he concluded, he’d lost his mind. And it was very kind of it, in his final moments, to pretend someone cared.

It started out like this.

“Jaskier. Wake up. Please. Wake up.”

He did. In a stone room. On a hard bed. To his hand clenched in another’s.

To Geralt’s pale and worried face.

“Jaskier.” He breathed out, all desperate relief. Like he cared at all.

“I’m going to kill you.” He told Geralt simply.

Geralt smiled. Warm and soft. “I think that’s only fair.”

There was nothing in arms reach so he beat his free hand against Geralt’s chest. Too weak to do damage.

Geralt covered the hand in his. “Please stay. I’m going to do better Jaskier. To make up for the things I said. Let me prove I can be better Jaskier.” He bowed his head and clenched his hands in his. “To be the man you believed I could be.”

He squeezed his hands to constrict blood flow. Maybe he could do it one finger at a time? But his hands were tired and weak so after a moment they released.

“Okay.” Because he couldn’t kill Geralt if he left. “I’ll stay.”

Within moments he was back asleep.

It started out like this.

With a whole plant’s worth of nightshade he’d found in the forest around the keep thrown into Geralt’s bowl before dinner.

Well.

He thought it was nightshade.

“This is really good Eskel. What did you do?” Geralt asked as he tried not to inhale the dish.

“Huh? It tastes like normal.”

“No it doesn’t.” He sniffed Lambert’s bowl. “Huh. Mines different.”

“I added this to yours.” He told Geralt, handing him one of the leftover leaves. “Poison.” He winked.

Geralt took it with a snort. “Right.” He crushed it into Lambert’s bowl who protested loudly. “It’s good.”

“Fuck that is good.” Lambert agreed.

He’d never been very good at recognizing flora.

Poison probably wasn’t the way to kill a Witcher anyway.

Weapons. Weapons were definitely the way.

He set them up in the hallway and Geralt’s bedroom while they spared. With any luck one of the bolts would get lucky.

Lambert passed him as he hauled the assortment of weapons up the stairs.

“What are those for?”

“To kill Geralt!” He grinned.

Lambert laughed. “Still pissed at him huh? He can be a real dick.”

“He won’t be for much longer!” He called back.

“Nice!”

The traps worked.

Except Geralt didn’t get hurt.

Except that Geralt thought it was an obstacle course.

Except that everyone decided the traps were fun and all the wolves got in on his little ‘game’.

Perhaps a more direct route would work better.

A knife.

Now he couldn’t win a fight with Geralt and Geralt had exceptional healing so it would have to be direct. Unarmored.

He shoved Geralt against the wall of his bedroom. Kissing him fiercely.

“Does- does this mean you forgive me?” Geralt gasped as he was swiftly undressed.

“For what?”

“The. Fuck. Mountain.”

His hands stilled. The words Geralt said ringing in his ears.

He looked up into those golden eyes. A hand reaching up to stroke the stubble of his cheek.

“I know why you said that. I knew when you were saying it. And it hurt but. I forgave you for it. I forgave you for it then.”

That wasn’t what hurt.

Geralt’s eyes flickered over him. “Then- then why are you still angry?”

Because I was all alone in that terrible place.

Because the only thing good he’d ever done was be useless.

Because no one came for me. And no one ever would.

“What pleases you Geralt? You never answered.”

He hadn’t had to. His actions had made the answer perfectly clear. He’d always been more of an action man.

“Ciri.” Geralt responded without hesitation. “Seeing her learning and growing. It’s. It’s everything. She’s everything I never thought I could have.”

A daughter. A family.

Love.

Geralt wrapped his arms around his waist pulling him closer. The warmth didn’t penetrate the cold that had settled in his core.

“And that’s because of you Jaskier. She is because of you.”

“Oh no don’t give me credit for the fall of Cintra Geralt- I was on the other end of the continent! I have an air tight alibi!”

He chuckled and pressed their foreheads together. “Sure you do Jaskier.”

“I do! And let me tell you I don’t appreciate the insinuation that I-”

Geralt cut him off. “My life’s one blessing,” He froze. “Was you Jaskier.”

“That.” His throat tightened but his fingers couldn’t uncurl from around the dagger. “Is very romantic Geralt. Did you hit your head? Are you a Doppler? Cause after the incident with Dudu I think you’re legally required to tell me if you’re a Doppler.”

“I’m not a Doppler.” He smiled and leaned in for another kiss.

He granted the request. “Well you certainly didn’t come up with that on your own.”

Geralt glanced away for a moment.

“Oh gods! Who did you ask! Lambert? Eskel? _Vesemir?_ Wait. No why was that the order I went with- how much white gull did you let me have Geralt? You know humans shouldn’t be allowed anywhere near that stuff.”

Geralt groaned. “Is that _really_ what you want to talk about?” He ground their hips together sinfully. A smile erupted on his face and he whispered in his ear, “Is that a knife in your pocket or are you just excited to see me?”

Laughter erupted from him. Only Geralt.

“It’s a knife.”

“Kinky.” He smirked. “But let’s save that for next time.”

Geralt’s hand was on his wrist and the pressure released his white knuckled grip. It dropped to the floor.

Next time. He promised as he was maneuvered to the bed. Next time.

He tried to lure Geralt into a deadly fight with a forktongue. Course they scolded him for being foolish and getting too close.

He tried to strangle Geralt in bed but he just pinned his arms after a bit with a simple apology of “This isn’t working for me. But I know something that does work for you.” Before sinking down on him.

And when he tried to strangle Geralt in his sleep with a pillow. Well. They were still cleaning up feathers from the pillow war that broke out.

It was very lucky that he was useless.

Truly he made a terrible assassin.

“We’re working on something basic today.” Yennefer announced. “Basic but useful.”

She grabbed him and sat him across from Ciri. He objected to being manhandled so rudely but she ignored him continuing her lecture.

“Mind reading.”

“What- no! No you are not- Yennefer She should Not be reading my mind and you should be well aware of that fact- did you hit your head on something very hard like-“ Oh he shouldn’t say that. “Geralt for example?”

Damnit.

“Keep it kid friendly bard. You’re the only one here whose brain isn’t wrapped up behind fifteen layers of mental shielding. Just sing something kid friendly. You have to know at least one song that doesn’t belong in a brothel.”

“Well that’s very rude- I’ll have you know that I-“ She grabbed his jaw angling him to look at Ciri.

“Is this okay Jaskier?” She asked.

His eyes softened. “For you princess?” He reached across the space to squeeze her hand. “Of course it is.”

“Start singing.” Yennefer ordered.

It took. A while. Before Ciri started to get the hang of it. He tried to focus- he really did. But eventually his mind wandered.

It wasn’t like staring into Ciri’s eyes for hours was going to let him read minds after all.

“What’s his biggest fear Ciri?”

“Spiders!” He chirped.

“Laundry.” Geralt intoned.

He flipped Geralt off best he could without looking away.

“Being alone.” Ciri eventually replied.

He was in a small cold room and no one ever came for him.

No one except her of course.

“Jaskier who is that woman?”

Yennefer smacked him. “What did I say! Keep your mental pants on for five damn minutes!”

“Why is she hurting you?” Ciri’s face grew pale and scared. Yennefer made a disgusted sound. Which truly seemed unfair of her.

He broke eye contact. Hummed a few bars of Toss a coin before returning her gaze.

“Nothing to worry about dear. My apologies. If you’re seeing images now would you like to see the valley of flowers? It’s quite the memory.”

He did his best to recreate it in his mind. He wondered if it had actually been so colorful or if he’d merely chosen to remember it that way.

He chose to believe he’d under colored it. He pictured it more vibrantly. Ciri deserved to see it in all its colorful glory.

Geralt stood screeching his chair against the floor as he did. He was going to kill him.

“Must you make such an awful noise Geralt- Really you know better.” He snapped at him.

Geralt smirked and screeched it louder as he pushed the chair back in.

“I’m going to kill you for that you inconsiderate ass! Ciri is using mind magic on me and I’d very much like if we minimized the distractions!”

“You’re fine” He snorted ruffling his hair as he walked past. “Mind reading isn’t dangerous.” That had not been his experience. “Dinner’s ready.”

He was going to drown Geralt in the bathtub tonight. It hadn’t worked yet – most of his attempts had ended in his clothing soaked and distractingly intimate relations. But he was nothing if not stubborn. Eventually something would work.

“You want to kill Geralt?” Ciri asked in a very small voice.

“Of course.” He stood, taking her hand to pull her to standing.

She drew back. “No. You really do.”

Geralt stopped at the door. Yennefer paused her gathering of notes.

“Yes.” He tried to smile reassuringly. “That’s what I’ve been saying.”

“What?” Geralt said, sounding far too confused.

He turned to him and repeated what he’d been saying for months with an easy smile. “I’m going to kill you Geralt.”

Geralt’s face flickered from a smile to a frown as he glanced at Ciri’s pallid face. 

Yennefer grabbed him, staring him down.

He repeated Toss a Coin to Your Witcher over and over as loud as he could. It annoyed her enough that she usually decided reading his mind wasn’t worth it.

It had annoyed the other mage too. Which was really his only consolation.

“Shut up- I’m trying to help Jaskier.”

“Could have fooled me Yennefer.”

Her nails dug in a little harder to the soft skin of his cheek.

“That’s a nasty curse.”

“He’s cursed?” Geralt was next to him now- prime stabbing range honestly. Especially given he wasn’t wearing armor. Unfortunately all he had on him was a quill and last time he’d tried that it had just broken. And then he was down a quill. The pen was clearly not directly more powerful than the sword.

“Definitely. How didn’t any of you notice?” She raised her hand and it began glowing which really seemed unnecessarily show-offie. Which was his job.

He imagined Geralt gaping like a fish. He couldn’t see him. But it was an entertaining image all the same. “It’s Jaskier.”

“It is.” She agreed. “Worst assassin on the continent.”

“Well I don’t know if I’d say that-”

The world went black.

He was alone. Which wasn’t surprising.

But he wasn’t dead – which was.

They’d chained him to the bed by the ankle. Which was a good start. Although he wondered how long they expected it to hold though. It was a straightforward lock. It’d be easy to break free.

Mostly because the bedframe was half rotten. Really. This wouldn’t hold him long.

“So.” He jumped. Looked up wide eyed at the door. At Lambert who’d snuck in. “You’ve seriously been trying to kill Geralt.”

“Yep.”

“Damn. That’s pathetic.” He took a bite of a beautifully hale and juicy pear. His mouth watered. His stomach rumbled.

He’d been hungrier. He’d been hungrier before that damn cell even.

There was a shackle on his ankle and cold stone around him. He was hungry.

Sometimes the jailers would eat in front of him. Tempting the reward for information he didn’t have. He didn’t know where Kaer Morhen was. Even as he sat in the keep he didn’t know where it was. Geralt had never taken him here. Taken Yennefer. But never him.

Safer that way. He’d said.

_He didn’t trust you._ Came the voice of the jailer. Came the voice of the mage.

Came his own voice.

He didn’t even know which part of the Blue Mountains they were in. Which country they slept in.

“Yeah. Suppose it is.” He agreed staring out at the window. “I’m open to suggestions.”

“Crossbow bolts. Best bet honestly. Been plenty of Witchers killed at range thanks to a lucky shot.”

He gave Lambert an odd look. “You want to help?”

“Nah. It’s no fun if you’re serious about it.” He took another bite. Let the juice run down his chin. “Is the curse what made you fun to hang out with?”

His stomach growled. He knew better than to ask. Jailers didn’t feed prisoners any more than was needed to survive. He shrugged.

He was a traitor. A failed assassin. A cursed bard. Beyond the memories he held of the mage and what Nilfgaard had asked him he was useless.

The wolves were kind though. They’d at least make this quick. Since he couldn’t be trusted. At least they’d make it quick.

Something hit his leg. He glanced down at it.

A pear.

He grabbed it. Scooching as far away from Lambert as the chain would allow and devouring it as quickly as he could.

If it was poisoned or magic or whatever it didn’t matter. He wouldn’t be able to judge that and he wouldn’t risk not eating when they still remembered to fed him.

“At least you eat normal. I can’t stand how Yennefer and Geralt eat. With their dainty little fork and knife.”

“Leaves half the goddamn meal on the plate.” He nodded. It looked real proper. Better than most nobles even, the way Yennefer taught Geralt to eat. Right waste of food it was.

“Right?” Lambert emphatically agreed. The bed creaked heavily as he dropped into it. “Just eat like fucking normal people!”

He glanced at him nervously. Chain pulled taunt against his ankle. “What are you doing?”

Lambert raised an eyebrow at him. “Laying down? Breathing? What kind of shitty ass question is that?”

“I’ve been trying to kill Geralt for months and you’re laying down next to me?”

“Trying to kill Geralt. Not me.” He took another bite of his pear. “And not doing a great job of it either.”

“I’m a bard. Not exactly trained in murder based skills.”

“Clearly.” He snorted. “Wanna change that?”

“What?” His head snapped to him. “Why the fuck would you want to train me how to murder better? Trying to kill your brother remember?” What the fuck.

He rolled his eyes. “After they break the curse. Obviously.”

He remembered the way the dead looked. The people he’d seen killed.

His stomach rolled painfully.

“I don’t like violence. I don’t want to kill anyone.” He curled inward. “Except Geralt. And maybe Valdo.”

Lambert snorted. “So all those bar fights you claimed to be in lies?”

He watched him carefully between bites. “Sometimes assholes need their noses broken.”

“Break many noses?”

“A few.” He smiled a little. Those people had deserved it. Assholes the lot of them. “They’re trying to break the curse?”

“Why wouldn’t they?” He tossed the stem out the window.

Because it didn’t matter. They could get what they needed from him with or without the curse. Because he hadn’t done anything but cause problems. Because he was useless.

Because sometimes the simplest solution was best.

Dead men couldn’t tell tales.

He’d already broken once. He wasn’t trustworthy. And now he’d seen this place at very least.

They’d hurt him and eventually he’d given them what he’d had to make it stop. If he’d had anything to give then. The keep probably wouldn’t be standing anymore.

“Seems like a waste of energy is all.” He smirked and licked his fingers clean. “Not like it makes much of a difference.”

“Ugh. Pretty boy’s going to be a mess until it’s broken.” He tucked an arm behind his head and yawned. “Boohoo my boyfriend wants to kill me. Not like that’s a new feature to his relationships.”

“He does seem to have a type doesn’t he?” He shuffled closer to him. “All the more reason not to break the curse. If I’m not actively trying to murder him. Poof. There goes the spark in our relationship.”

It was cold in the keep. Stone and gaping holes in the walls made for poor insulation. He wrapped himself in the blankets they’d left on the bed. It didn’t help as much as it should have.

“Poof.” Lambert agreed. Eyes closed.

“Why are you here?” He wiggled close enough to breathe in the familiar scent of horse, sword oil and sweat. He didn’t smell exactly like Geralt but it was close enough to ease him. “Making sure I don’t escape?”

“Escape? Good luck making it to civilization on your own. If you’re lucky your body might skate to the bottom after you break your fucking neck.”

“Then what’s” He moved the shackle. The chain clinked. “With this?”

“Makes the old man feel better.”

He snorted. “Oh heaven forbid we make Vesemir worry.”

“My thoughts exactly.”

He wiggled ever closer. “So why are you here then?” He smirked. “Want a bedtime story?”

Geralt had always seemed remarkably willing to put up with his late night rambling stories. The others hadn’t protested much either.

Lambert huffed and rolled over. Pulled the blankets up.

He blinked. That was. Probably a yes.

So he told Lambert a bedtime story and eventually fell off to sleep himself.

The cell was cold.

It was always cold.

Cold and hard and lonely.

_You’ll be here until you die. She told him. No one’s coming to save you._

_No one ever will._

“Why are you on the floor?”

He jumped – head colliding with the bedframe. He rubbed it. “Trying to escape. Obviously.”

Geralt crouched next to him. Stony face. “I told them this was unnecessary.” He reached out.

The chain had length and it was in his hands and those hands were trying to wrap it around Geralt’s neck.

The chain was cold. The floor was cold. Everything was cold. Even Geralt’s hands pinning him to the floor. He kicked upward. Kneeing him in the junk. He cursed and pinned him properly.

“I’m going to kill you.” He repeated. Tears froze down his face. “I will.”

“Yennefer’s going to break the curse and everything is going to be fine Jaskier.” His face so pained as he struggled against him.

_Useless._

_No one even bother looking for you._

_There is one thing._

“I’m going to kill you.” And then it would stop being cold. And then it would end. The cold the pain the hunger.

The loneliness.

“I’m going to kill you.”

_There is still one thing you can do._

_Kill me. Kill me. Just Kill me._ He begged her. He begged him. _Or I will kill you._

“I love you.” The tears wouldn’t stop as he thrashed against Geralt. “I am going to kill you.”

_Kill me first. I already betrayed you once. Kill me. Before I kill you._

“We’re going to fix this Jaskier. I promise. It’s going to be okay.”

He beat his head back against the stone floor. Geralt’s face morphed into panic and one hand let go to protect his skull and he grabbed at the knife Geralt kept tied to his thigh. Yanked it free and-

“Stop.”

Geralt’s hand was. In a shape. The world was soft and gentle and cold. Like snow falling.

“Drop the knife.”

It clattered to the floor.

“Jaskier I’m so sorry. We’re going to fix this. I promise were going to fix this.”

It was cold. The stormy mountain outside.

Geralt pressed him to his chest. Horse and leather and the oil he used on his swords and whatever it was that made Geralt Geralt. Pressed into his nose as he inhaled. As Geralt tucked him into his shoulder and promised. Apologized. Plead.

His head lolled as Geralt carried him back into the bed. Wrapped them in furs. Snow gathered at the windowsill.

He hadn’t tried that. Because _no one even tried to come for you._

But they already knew. And nothing else worked. He was running out of time.

_If you’re lucky your body might skate to the bottom after you break your fucking neck._

Running out of time to be brave.

“Sleep.”

The chain was gone when he woke up. Along with anything he could feasibly use as a weapon. Geralt held him to his clothed chest. His nose buried in his hair.

He should be warm. Hugged to Geralt’s chest. Buried under furs. But he wasn’t. He was still right where he started. In a frozen cell all alone. Divesting every secret he had to make it stop.

_I am alone. I am scared. I am cold. Hurt. Tired._

_I am alone and no one is coming for me._

He tried to wiggle out of Geralt’s steel bar arms. They tightened with a growl.

“I need to piss.” He told him. “Unless you’d like me to ruin all your nice furs and bed. Then by all means. Don’t let go.”

Geralt grumbled but released him. He slid out of the bed. Using the chamber pot. Because he did in fact have to go.

“Ugh.” Geralt’s nose wrinkled.

“Yeah right? No one else’s piss ever smells as tolerable as your own.” He opened the window- letting the snow in and tossed it over the cliff edge. He didn’t close it. The large flakes collecting and melting on his skin. Which was odd because it didn’t feel like they should.

“What’s this plan then?” The bed creaked as Geralt climbed out of it. “Frostbite me to death?”

He stared down at the rocks below. He could shimmy out the window. Geralt probably couldn’t even stop him.

“Would you follow me?” He asked. Snow collected on his hair.

“Follow you where?” The window closed. Geralt. Chest against his back.

“Down.”

Geralt took his hands in his and rubbed them. “I don’t understand.”

“I’m going to kill you. But I promise you won’t go alone. I don’t want you to be alone.” He leaned back into his chest. It should have been warm. It wasn’t. Maybe he was already dead then. Maybe that’s why it was all so cold. “I’d follow you. I promise. I won’t let you go alone.”

“No one’s dying Jaskier. Not tonight. Yennefer-“

He hacked out a laughing sob at her name.

_What pleases you?_

_Clearly it’s not me._

He just didn’t want to be alone.

He’d waited at Essi’s grave for so long. Waiting for the pox to take him too. So he could climb in with her. So she wouldn’t be alone.

And he’d still had to bury her. With her lute and pearl. Alone.

Love so powerful not even death could separate them. That was the ballad he wrote for them. Geralt and Essi.

“I’m going to run out into the snow and get lost in the storm.” He told him. “And maybe you will chase after me and die.” You won’t. _No one will come for you. No one is looking for you._ “That was the plan tonight.”

“I will shackle you to this bed.” Geralt threatened. Hands tightening around his.

“It doesn’t matter. It wouldn’t work. So I won’t bother.”

The snow swirled outside. White and shimmering.

“Why wouldn’t it work?” Geralt asked into the shell of his ear. Nuzzling at it with the irritating scruff of his beard. “You tried to stab me with a quill,” He snorted. “But getting lost in a blizzard. That wouldn’t work.”

“You wouldn’t look for me.”

Stillness. Aside from the storm. Geralt pinned his arms to his chest. Wrapping him in a rib breaking embrace.

“I’m still there aren’t I? That’s why it’s still so cold. This is just another illusion to get his secrets out of me. But I already told you. I’m useless. I don’t know anything. I don’t even know where we are.”

“Jaskier.” His head buried in the crook of his shoulder.

“And if this is the afterlife then let me say – I want to speak to management because this is bullshit. I had no expectations and I am still disappointed. At least let me see Essi.” His head hung forward. “No. I suppose this is hell right? Because I was such a piece of shit in life? I was really hoping for the quiet of just not existing anymore.” He sighed. “Next you’ll tell me the moon does control the tides.”

“Yennefer said it does.”

“And that’s still preposterous. Giant sea monster all the way.”

“You’re not dead. And you’re not. In that cell still. I’ll restart the fire. Warm you up.” He was dragged into the bed. Bundled in furs.

“I could climb in the flames and still be cold.” He mumbled into them. The texture at least was nice.

He listened to the fire start. To Geralt climb in with him. Feet pressing into his calves.

“I should have known you were cursed.” He muttered. His hands running under his chemise. Pressing into the small of his back. “You haven’t complained about my cold feet once.”

“They’re fucking ice cubes.” He complained on instinct. “It’s just so is everything else.”

“We’re going to fix this. Promise.”

“You can’t fix me.” Couldn’t fix that he’d betrayed Geralt. Couldn’t fix that he was dead or worse. Couldn’t fix what he was.

Traitor. Coward. Spy.

“We’ll fix this. You don’t need fixing.”

He curled into Geralt. “I don’t need fixing? I’m intolerable. I think this whole affair proves I cause nothing but trouble.”

“Yeah. Wouldn’t have you any other way.”

“Is this entirely necessary? The straps really seem like overkill. Maybe we could try Vesemir’s method instead? He seemed very confident in his method.” He tugged against the leather bindings that fastened him to the chair. “And his method sounded so much more pleasant. Really. Please?”

“Are you cold?” Geralt asked tightening the bindings.

“Yes – obviously. It’s fucking freezing here.”

“He’s not wrong. Colder than a frost giant’s ass here.” Lambert tucked his hands under his armpits and he very much wished he could copy him.

“Thank you!” He wiggled, trying to get out. Shivering. “See?”

“Has it been getting worse?” He kicked out on instinct as Geralt tied down his legs.

“We are getting farther into the winter last I checked.”

“The curse is punishing you for failing.” Eskel’s deep metallic voice explained. “Vesemir’s method won’t be ready for another two days. Think you can hike through knee deep snow like this?”

The shiver was full bodied. He curled into it at the very idea. “Just need some better clothes that’s,” His teeth chattered. “All.”

“Uh huh. That’s why you passed out from heat stroke this morning. That totally tracks.”

“Hey!” He objected. “I thought you were on my side Lambert!”

He shrugged. “This doesn’t work I’ll carry you up the fucking mountain myself.”

Geralt pressed him back against the chair. A strap around his chest. “At least light a fire.” He requested. Geralt bound his head to the chair. “Why the fuck do you even have this just laying around? What kind of weird ass kink is this shit for?”

“Fire’s right there Jaskier.” He blinked at him because there couldn’t- but something was crackling like a fire. The grim silence on his other question was probably telling but. But he was tired. His heart was racing and he was so fucking tired.

“Alright.” Yennefer with her heels clicking against the stone. “Let’s get this over with, shall we?”

“I would like to restate how very little I consent to this.”

“Too bad.” And her hand covered his eyes and-

And it started like this.

With screaming and sobbing and shivering.

With agony and unfamiliar hands shifting through the mess of his mind.

With leather straps digging into his skin as he fought against them. As he begged her to leave him alone. To stop. To kill him.

It started like this.

“It’s done. It’s broken.”

With a voice too hoarse to respond. How he did feel broken.

With warm hands, sweaty hair, and encroaching darkness.

It started like this.

“Jaskier.” He groaned. “How do you feel?”

“Sweaty.” He tried to dislodge the stifling layers. Kicking some of them free. His head pounded terribly.

“Still want to murder me?”

“Get me something to drink before you ask.” He fumbled off a glove fighting between curling around his pounding head and splaying out to avoid the heat. “Hot.” He mumbled. A few of the layers disappeared and the space chilled slightly. He sighed in relief.

“Sorry. Didn’t want you to be cold when you woke. Yennefer said it might- Here.” The sour taste of ale. Cool. Filled his mouth. He drank greedily.

“Thoughtful.” He croaked. “Except the letting me overheat again part.”

“You recognized it this time at least.” The bed- oh he was in a bed. Their bed even. – creaked. “So. Murder?”

He hummed. “Does Valdo count?”

“No.”

“Then I think I’ll pass, thanks.”

Geralt sat back against the headboard. “Good.”

He pulled off the jacket wrapped around him. Surprised to see Geralt’s black shirt under it. He looked up at him.

“Still interested if I’m not trying to murder you?”

His face fell. “Yes Jaskier.”

“Well you might be relieved to know I’m still very interested in you. Murder magic or no.” He smiled brightly up at him. He pinched Geralt’s shirt between his fingers and fluttered it. The cool air helping chill his fevered skin. It was probably also an alluring sight. He hoped. Flushed. Wearing his shirt. Hooded eyes.

Sweaty, stinky, just over a murder curse.

A man could try.

“Jaskier.” Geralt tugged his medallion anxiously. He didn’t like that. That was not good. “You said-“

“Murder magic!” He chirped crawling over to him. “But I would very much like to show you how grateful I am that you broke that nasty curse!” His hand ran up his thigh. Eyes trained on the budge of his trousers.

Geralt caught his wrists. Pulling him up onto his thighs – promising- with a heartbroken face – less promising.

“Jaskier you said I wouldn’t look for you. If you went out into the storm.”

He leaned in. “I would like to kiss you.”

“Jaskier!” He growled. Pushing him back. He pouted. “Tell me that was just the curse.”

“It was just the curse.” He echoed.

“Why don’t I believe you?”

He closed his eyes. His hands over Geralt’s pecs. Feeling the slow rhythm of his heart. The warmth of his chest.

“I would follow you to the end Geralt.”

“But you don’ think I would.” Statement. Not a question.

“I wouldn’t want you to. I just,” He rested his head against Geralt’s shoulder. “I just don’t want you to be alone.”

“Being alone.” He whispered. “Ciri said that was your biggest fear.”

Geralt’s arms wrapped around his waist. Nosing into his hair. He hummed.

“You’re not alone. And I would have chased you out into the storm.”

“Let’s not test it.” He requested.

“No.” He assured. “But know I would.”

“Alright.” He agreed even though he didn’t. “Oh for fucks sake.” He groaned. Geralt hm’d questioningly into his hair. “I can’t believe I confessed under a murder curse.”

“There are worse ways. Especially if you meant it.”

“Oh I meant it. I’ve meant it for a very long time.”

“I would like to kiss you.” Geralt requested.

“Better get on that then. These lips won’t just kiss themsel-“

And Geralt kissed him.

And he felt it warm his frozen core.

“Is that a knife in your pocket?” Geralt asked pulling away, breathless. A small golden ring lining the large black circle of his eyes. “Or are you happy to see me?”

“Happy to see you. Definitely that one.”

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! Hope you enjoyed! Man I thought that was going to be more light hearted than it was. Hope you had fun anyway. Here's some Kleenex if you need them. Love yall.


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